


How I Met Your Father

by writingscribbles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - How I Met Your Mother Fusion, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, How I Met Your Mother References, M/M, Marriage, daichi makes a fool of himself, hinata and kageyama are his kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingscribbles/pseuds/writingscribbles
Summary: Daichi clears his throat. “Kids. I’m going to tell you a story. A special one.”“A story?” Shouyou gasps, excited. “What is it about?”“How I met your father.”“...Is this some kind of punishment?”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 95





	How I Met Your Father

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Which Doctor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114405) by [ghostystarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostystarr/pseuds/ghostystarr). 



> This was written before the timeskip arc in the manga, so the jobs are WAYYY off. But oh well, have some HIMYM! Daisuga because it's needed in the world :D

**Year 2030**

Daichi sits down, smiling brightly at Shouyou and Tobio. The boys fidget in their seats, unsure of what to do.

Tobio is the first to break the awkward silence. “...So?” he asks expectantly. “Why did you make us sit here?”

Daichi clears his throat. “Kids. I’m going to tell you a story. A special one.”

“A story?” Shouyou gasps, excited. “What is it about?”

“How I met your father.”

“...Is this some kind of punishment?” grunts Tobio.

“...What, no—”

“I swear I wasn’t the one who broke the coffee machine, it was Shouyou—”

“HUH WHAT?! YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU WEREN’T GOING TO TELL DAD, _TOBIO—_!”

“ _KIDS!”_ Daichi bellows, and Shouyou and Tobio immediately pipe down, although their glares do not suspend. After their long exchange of bickering ends, Daichi takes another deep breath and continues, “And no, this is not a punishment. It was the summer of 2005, and I was perfectly fine with being a single guy. It was a great life. Until your Uncle Bokuto had to come around and ruin it…” 

**Year 2005**

“Will you marry me?” Bokuto Koutarou crouches down to one knee and unclamps the dark, velvet box, revealing an engagement ring. He looks up at Daichi, wide eyes filled with hope and adoration.

“ _YES!”_ Daichi says with a laugh, heartily patting Bokuto’s shoulder. Jeez, he feels like _crying_ right now, completely overwhelmed with emotion and pure happiness. “You nailed it! He’s totally going to say yes!”

“Really? You think Keiji’s going to say yes?!” Bokuto exclaims, smiling widely. On the other side of the bar, Kuroo Tetsurou scoffs while cleaning up beer glasses. During this time, The Black Cat Bar—the idiotic name Daichi will never be one-hundred percent on board with—is starting to get crowded; it’s seven on a Tuesday, and people are just getting out of work for a drink or two. And, just like the usual, it was their hangout place where they could bother Kuroo while he was working.

“Of course he will,” Kuroo says, rolling his eyes. “With a proposal as cheesy as that, he’d be a heartless monster to decline it.”

“Guys, I’m totally freaking out!” Bokuto starts manically carding his shaking fingers through his hair, pacing around the room as though he would explode if he stayed still for even a second. “Like what if Keiji _rejects me_ or like _runs away to Timbuktu because of how utterly disgusted he is of me?!_ Or like what if he—”

“BOKUTO!” Daichi cuts off, his signature Dad Voice in full effect. The others in the room immediately turn their attention to him, and Daichi fights the smug satisfaction he feels. “I am only going to tell you this: you are a complete _dumbass—”_

“HEY—!”

“—if you even _think_ Akaashi Keiji will turn _you_ down.” He claps his hands over Bokuto’s shoulders, his face donning an encouraging grin. “So stop being a little bitch, grow a pair, and get your man.”

* * *

_“You see, kids, this moment changed things within the group. Before, it was just us seven since freshman year of college. But right then and there, after seeing Bokuto kneeling before me to practice for his big moment, I realized everything was changing. Iwaizumi was finishing up law school, Oikawa with his surgical residency. Kuroo had finally gotten off his ass to pursue his dream of opening up a bar—even ditching_ _years worth of work for his master's degree in chemical engineering to do so—while Kenma was busy making bank off developing video games that were probably equivalent to three years worth of my salary._

 _“And now Bokuto was going to marry the love of his life, and… well, there was just… me. Before long, I’d be that weird, middle-aged bachelor their kids call ‘Uncle Daichi’, still stuck in my editorial job and down to my luck. It wasn’t the most ideal lifestyle to have, especially nearing your thirties and experiencing an existential crisis, but I was happy where I was. Or at least I_ thought _I was, until I met your dad.”_

_Tobio snickers. “Yeah, I bet you were just as freaked out to propose to Papa—”_

_“Aaaaand we’re getting back to the story, kids! Anyway…”_

* * *

After a whole three days of stress-drinking at The Black Cat, more Bokuto-style freak-outs, and a shit-ton of collateral damage, Bokuto finally drops down to one knee (this time, to the right man) and pops the question. Akaashi says yes, Bokuto starts sobbing, and Oikawa—because apparently, you can’t plan a quote-unquote “legendary” party without him—throws an engagement party for them on Friday.

Of course, because it’s Oikawa Tooru, this “pleasant” engagement party is filled with booze complimentary of Kuroo (“On the house for my best bros,” he’d said with a wink), strobe lights, and a huge amount of people of whom Daichi has never seen in his entire life. And that’s how he finds himself backed in the corner of their apartment’s roof terrace, awkwardly sipping at his spiked punch while watching Akaashi and Bokuto, both in equally giddy, drunken states, dance together in the center of the terrace.

It’s disgustingly _cute_ and _beautiful_ and Daichi has never felt so miserable about his loveless life before.

“Yo, Sawamura!”

Daichi notices Iwaizumi making his way towards him with a passed-out Oikawa in tow. 

“Judge Fudge, what’s up?” he quips, and Iwaizumi groans.

“Agh, stop with that stupid nickname already!”

Daichi laughs. “You can blame the two stooges for it.” 

Back in his first year of law school’s Hell Week, Iwaizumi descended into a spiraling mental meltdown while cramming last-minute for midterms, cursing his naive, doe-eyed ambition of wanting to “right the wrongs within the legal system” and “bring justice to the world,” and sobbing over five crushed cans of Red Bull and two boxes of fudge brownies. Daichi, of course, felt extremely bad for him and tried to help him any way he could.

Bokuto and Kuroo, on the other hand… not so much.

 _“You know what rhymes with judge? Fudge,”_ Bokuto had remarked. _“You know what Iwaizumi’s trying to become? A judge. He’s Judge Fudge.”_

 _“Judge Fudge…”_ Kuroo repeated, completely awed. _“Bokuto Koutarou, you fucking genius.”_

Henceforth “Judge Fudge” was created, much to Iwaizumi’s misery.

“I don’t need to be reminded of that shit time in my life,” he gruffily says. “I’m taking the bar exam next month, so after that I’m done with this law school crap.”

Daichi grins. “Congratulations! I’ll be expecting you to defend Kuroo and Bokuto when they mess shit up and are sent to court.”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Ah, they really are lost causes…” he sighs.

Daichi raises an eyebrow and gestures towards Oikawa, who’s currently slobbering over Iwaizumi’s shoulder and sleepily murmuring, “Iwa-chan…” between quiet snores.

“Your hands seem quite full.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause this idiot decided to participate in a shot-drinking contest and went overboard. And he didn’t even win!” But he glances down at Oikawa and smiles. “But I married him, so I guess I’m equally at fault too.”

Daichi laughs. “You continue to amaze me over how you’re able to handle Oikawa, even back then. I’m still completely shocked.”

Iwaizumi barks a laugh. “Please, I’ve been doing this for way too long. How else would I have adapted every time this crybaby whined about med school?”

They fall into a brief, comfortable silence, letting the ear-grating electronica blaring from the stereos fill in their wordless conversation, when Iwaizumi says, somewhat hesitantly, “So… Sawamura…”

“No,” Daichi immediately says. He knows where this conversation is heading.

“C’mon, man, you’ve been saying the exact same thing since college. Remember when you always turned down Bokuto and Kuroo’s party invitations to, what, sit in and rewatch _The Notebook_ for the fifteenth time?”

“Hey, you did that too,” Daichi retorts, mildly peeved. Come on, it’s a good movie! “Don’t think I forgot about all those times you _bailed_ on me and left me to suffer with those jackasses. I still have nightmares about those disgusting sticky frat house floors, you know.”

“But I got a free pass because I was already with Tooru, and dating him is basically a full-time job. You, on the other hand, were single as hell and had no excuse,” Iwaizumi points out.

Daichi winces. Okay, yes, that’s true, but it doesn’t make the words any less _scathing_.

“I’m just saying, you’re three years away from reaching your thirties, and maybe it’s time to, I don’t know, think about this kind of stuff, finding that someone special or something.”

“Hey, I’m perfectly fine being single,” Daichi interjects, but Iwaizumi looks at him in a ‘whatever you say’ fashion, and he grumbles down his other rebuttals.

“Look, man, I love you, but you should be _happy_ ,” Iwaizumi says. “I once stood exactly where you are. I didn’t feel the need to get married, despite all the pressure my parents were giving me, because I thought all I needed was a stable, safe life. But eventually, you get lonely, and you realize living in that bubble isn’t enough to make you happy.” He pats Daichi’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to tell you what you should and should not be doing; it’s your life, so live how you want it. But I’m just saying, it’ll get better. I promise you. It did when I knew Tooru was it for me, and I’ve never been any happier.”

“Judge Fudge, I really appreciate your worry, but trust me, I’m fine,” Daichi insists, although he’s not entirely convinced himself.

“Don’t call me that,” Iwaizumi quips back. He gives him an encouraging fist bump. “Don’t sweat it, Sawamura. Who knows, maybe The One will appear where you’ll least expect it.” And with that, Iwaizumi exits, leaving Daichi with major food for thought.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried, or anything. He’s done it all: blind dates, online dating sites, pick-me-ups at bars, recommendations from his friends (most of them ending in complete _chaos_ because of Kuroo being Kuroo), and none of them felt _right._ He’s grown to be quite jaded about romance. He’s been called the Grinch for it, but with all the hopeless experiences he’s had, he can’t deny it. He’s not some doe-eyed eighteen-year-old who thinks that romance comes from cherry blossom petals and timid confessions; no, he’s a grown-ass adult who knows how to take care of himself, thank you very much.

But still… it must be nice to have someone to wake up next to every morning…

“Hah, what are you doing over here moping like a loser?”

Daichi’s hand squeezes the red Solo cup tighter, already sensing the impending doom building up. Just when he thought he could have a peaceful, Kuroo-free evening...“Kuroo, I thought you’d be too busy sucking face with some random stranger,” he grinds out. 

“Got bored. And Kenma won’t talk to me, so I’m stuck with you,” Kuroo says, shrugging nonchalantly. “What, you jealous that you’re an emotionally constipated loner while I’m actually getting some?”

 _“Oi…”_ Daichi trails off darkly.

“Hey, hey, just joking!” Kuroo says. “I’m sure you’re perfectly fine with… whatever you’re doing in life… but you do you, dude. But say, if you need me to hook you up with anyone, I’ve got a friend who knows a friend who knows someone who’s got a cousin who’s got _another_ cousin who…”

Kuroo’s voice seems to drown off when Daichi looks over to the terrace’s ledge. His jaw drops, heart coming to an immediate halt, when he lays his eyes on ashen gray hair, kind, crinkled eyes, and a smile that can engulf the entire sun. The red cup in his hand drops to the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up, not when he’s totally, utterly _captivated_ by this person.

“Oi, are you even listening? I’m trying to help you out here—oh.” Kuroo follows his line of sight until he also finds who Daichi’s looking at, and smirks. “ _Oh_ ,” he repeats, his voice dropped lower in a suggestive tone, “look what we have here.”

Daichi tears his gaze away and glares at Kuroo, flushing bright red. “Hey—”

Bokuto suddenly comes bounding up to them and drapes his arms over the two other men. “Hey hey heyyyyyyy, why aren’t ya partying?! Keiji and I miss our best men!”

Kuroo nudges Bokuto with a shit-eating grin. “Bo, guess what? Daichi totally has the hots for 12 o'clock over there.”

Bokuto immediately perks up and turns to where the stranger is. All the previous signs of drunkenness dissipate and are replaced with Bokuto’s usual bouncy energy. “Really?!” he shouts. He turns to Sawamura, eyes wide. “You like Suga-chan?!”

Daichi blinks back. “‘Suga-chan’?” He tries to crane his head back to where he’d first seen this “Suga-chan,” but Bokuto reels him in and forces him back into the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, Sugawara Koushi!” Bokuto chirps. “He’s super awesome and friendly! He and Oikawa and Keiji go _waaaayyy_ back during med school! _And_ he's training to become a pediatrician, so you know he’s _great_ with kids if you’re ever thinking of getting one.” Bokuto waggles his eyebrows, and Daichi shoves him away.

“Is he single? Does he even swing that way?” Daichi asks, perplexed.

“From what I’ve heard from Keiji, he does _and_ he’s single! You should totally go for it, Daichi!” he answers. He thumps Daichi’s chest, and Daichi has to swallow up the pained whimper building up in his throat; Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy?

Kuroo also smacks Daichi’s chest, and that’s it, he _knows_ these shitbags are doing this on purpose. “I agree with Bo. This is it, Daichi. This is the moment. You know in those old movies, where the sailor sees the girl, and he tells his buddy, ‘See that girl? I’m gonna marry her someday’? _This, this_ is your sailor moment.”

Daichi scrunches his nose. “No thanks, I’d rather not have my love life mirror those cliché, heteronormative Hallmark movies.”

“Yeah, and look where you are now: slaving your youth away in some publishing house and coming home alone like a lame dweeb wallowing in self-pity. You can definitely learn a thing or two from those ‘cliché, heteronormative Hallmark movies,’ because those whitebreads have a higher success rate of getting laid than you’ll ever have now.”

...Okay, he’s got a point; Daichi can’t deny that.

That’s when he feels both of his arms being grasped. Daichi looks up and sees that Kuroo and Bokuto are grinning at him, and from all the reluctant, misery-filled college years he’s spent with these buffoons, he knows that those grins can only mean up to no good.

“Wha-what are you guys doing?” he stammers, fear and panic slowly rising in his voice.

Kuroo shrugs. “We’re just helping you out.” 

Bokuto pipes in, “Yeah, it’s a little game called ‘Haaavvveee you met Daichi?’”

“No, no, _no,_ ” snaps Daichi, “we are _not_ playing ‘Have you met Daichi’—”

With exchanged, affirmative nods, Kuroo and Bokuto start dragging him over to where Sugawara is happily chatting away with Kenma. Daichi is faintly impressed since Kenma is, for once, not staring down at his PSP and looks _genuinely_ interested in the conversation. However, warning signs start blaring in his head, and he struggles to keep his feet planted to the ground.

“Stop! Kuroo, Bokuto! _Let go of me!”_ he hisses. Of course, they don’t listen to his pleas and keep charging onward.

It’s only when the three reach the ledge does Sugawara take notice of them, and _oh my God, please_ don’t tell him that this man also has a _beauty mark_ beneath his left eye—

Sugawara shifts his eyes at the three of them before finally landing on Daichi. Daichi’s face goes shot-red, and his eyes shoot down to the floor, suddenly taking a rather keen interest in his shoelaces.

Sugawara quirks his mouth in amusement and says, “How can I help you?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” Daichi answers quickly. “My friends and I,” he shoots a vehement glare at Kuroo and Bokuto, “were just about to _leave_ —”

“Haaavvveee you met DAICHI?” Kuroo and Bokuto yell out at the same time, with such overexaggerated volume and enthusiasm that nearly everyone within the vicinity jumps to their feet. The two shove Daichi forward, causing him to stumble and trip and, to his sheer horror, find himself standing a mere two inches away from Sugawara Koushi.

“No,” Sugawara muses, “I believe I haven’t yet.”

Underneath that kind, mellow gaze, Daichi shrinks inwards, silently cursing his shitty tolerance with blushing. He can already tell that his face is ablaze, but maybe be can blame it on the alcohol.

Kuroo claps Daichi on the shoulder, “Well, y'all get to it. Bo and I are gonna head back! See ya, Daichi! Kenma, you go too!” He drags Kenma away, while Bokuto throws a subtle (but not really) wink over his shoulder before running off with the other two.

Leaving Daichi with a complete (-ly _gorgeous_ ) stranger.

 _Well_ , he thinks. _Shit me now._

They’re just standing there, watching the city skyline from where they are, Daichi secretly dying for his lack of communication skills, when Sugawara is the first to break the silence. “I’m Sugawara Koushi, but my friends call me Suga,” he says while raising his hand. He smiles, and Daichi’s knees go weak. 

“Sawamura Daichi. You can just call me Daichi, though,” Daichi says, pleading to the heavens above that he does not make a total fool of himself in front of this amazing person. He shakes Suga’s slender hand and is amazed over how soft it is, like _wow, how is it so soft?_

“So, you seem to have very nice friends, Daichi,” Suga remarks.

Daichi snorts. “‘Nice’ my ass,” he grunts.

Suga laughs, and holy crap is that laugh _cute_. “You know, you should appreciate their efforts more. After all, they _are_ the ones who took charge while you just sat there staring at me from afar.”

A circuit in his brain fries up. “You… you noticed…?” he croaks. 

“Of course I did. I have eyes, you know.”

Oh God, Suga noticed Daichi stalking him and practically giving him googly eyes, and was now being reprimanded for not being thankful enough for having friends who basically made him look like a total tool in front of such a pretty guy.

Twenty-seven or not, Daichi feels like he’s sixteen again and is asking out his school crush to a school dance. 

_Embarrassing._

“I-I’m _so_ sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I’ll just go—”

“No, no, I quite enjoyed it.” Suga glances up at him through sets of thick, really pretty eyelashes, a coy smile dancing in the corners of his full lips, and says, “I’ve also been staring, and if it makes you feel any better, I like what I see.”

Oh.

**OH.**

“Is that so…”

Daichi is five seconds away from combusting.

Suga lets out another laugh. “You’re not used to this, aren’t you?” he says, equal parts mirthful and amused.

* * *

_Shouyou plants his face into a pillow and kicks his legs in the air, screeching out, “Waaahh, Dad, this is so embarrassing to listen to!”_

_“You said this wasn’t punishment!” Tobio scowls._

_Daichi frowns, offended. “It isn’t! I’m sorry I wasn’t Mr. Smooth-and-Suave like your Uncle Oikawa, okay!”_

_“Yeah, Uncle Iwaizumi and Uncle Kuroo are right. You’re super lame!” Shouyou exclaims. “And I’m sure Uncle Kenma would agree too, because you suck at playing video games!”_

_“OI! Listen up, you two…”_

* * *

Daichi opens his mouth, a defensive _yeah, I so am, I am totally used to this because I’m a grown-ass man who knows how to flirt_ on the tip of his tongue, but one knowing look shot by the other man immediately makes him clamp his mouth shut. Fuck, who the hell is he fooling? He sighs. “No, can’t say that I am. Work’s turned me to some kind of antisocial hermit. It’s been a while,” Daichi admits.

“Ooh, what do you do?”

“Chief Editor of Karasuno Publishing,” Daichi says, and he can’t help but say it with a little pride. It took him nearly a decade to get to where he was, beginning all the way at the bottom of the food chain as a Starbucks slave-slash-intern to, well, now. Sure, it took a while, not to mention the many migraines and caffeine-induced headaches he had to endure, but looking back, he can certainly say, with confidence, that it was all worth it.

The downside? He’s completely forgotten how to interact like a totally normal human being. 

This is Exhibit A.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Daichi,” Suga says, impressed. “If it makes you feel better, work’s put me in a rather similar situation too. I’m starting to feel like the only people I can talk to are kids now.”

“You’re currently a pediatric resident, right?”

Suga’s eyes widen, and he smiles. “Yeah! How did you know?”

Crap _,_ he wasn’t supposed to know that. Now he looks like a _stalker_. “It—uh, Bokuto mentioned it in a passing conversation,” he quickly says. He inhales sharply when Suga scoots even _closer,_ up to the point that their shoulders are lightly touching one another.

“Sorry, it’s a little loud here,” Suga says over Oikawa’s trashy remixes. “So, how do you know Kuroo and Bokuto?”

“They’re my roommates,” he answers dryly.

Suga quirks a brow. “Oh, so _you’re_ the mystical roommate? I've only heard tall tales about you.”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “They’re the banes of my existence. Technically, it’s _my_ apartment, but they somehow found a way to squeeze themselves into my privacy. How do you know them?”

“I met Akaashi during medical school, and Bokuto was always hanging around. And it’s kind of hard not to notice him.”

“I understand,” Daichi says gravely. “I met Kuroo first. Roommates our freshman year of college, and Bokuto lived right next door. It was a recipe for disaster and a personal Hell for me.”

Suga laughs. “He’s definitely an energetic guy. But he’s got a soft heart, and I guess that’s all that matters for Akaashi.”

They glance over to Bokuto, where Bokuto is giving a whole speech about how he met Akaashi (“I first saw him at a mixer during our junior year of college and my heart went _GWOOOSHH_ and _BAAAMMMM_ because I couldn’t help but think, ‘Damn, this man is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!’ and I _knew_ I _just_ had to talk to him!”), while his fiancé listens with exasperated fondness, every now and then interrupting to correct a few things (“No, Koutarou, you spilled punch on my shirt first, and _then_ tried to compliment me with a pick-up line.”). 

“They’re quite perfect together, aren’t they,” Suga sighs, dreamily. “Makes you wonder if you’re ever going to find a relationship like theirs.”

“Probably not. Akaashi is definitely the only person who can possibly have the nerve and patience to love Bokuto like that. As much as I love him… I’d rather eat my shoe than have to sleep in the same bed as him every night.”

Suga snorts. “You’ve got that right. But he can’t be any worse than Kuroo.”

“Oh God, _don’t_ get me started with Kuroo; that man’s the actual spawn of Satan.”

Conversation flows easily between them. They trade stories about their college days, talk about their likes and dislikes, and complain about the burdens of adulthood and the creeping existential crisis of nearing their thirties. Soon, Daichi completely forgets that there is a party happening around them, just focusing on Suga’s smile and laugh and words and how utterly _perfect_ he is. Their conversation is cut short when Suga’s stomach lets out a loud grumble, and they stare at each other before laughing, Suga blushing bashfully.

“Ah geez, that’s embarrassing,” he whines, covering his eyes. “I went straight from the clinic to the party, and I forgot to grab dinner. Sorry about this.”

“There’s pizza here. I can get you some,” Daichi offers, and the other man smiles appreciatively. 

“Sure! And maybe a drink too if you don’t mind.”

Daichi excuses himself and goes back to the punch bowl and pizzas, where he consequently runs into Kuroo.

“Having fun, lover boy?” Kuroo asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Daichi answers by scowling hurrying back to Suga, drinks and pizzas in toll.

A few more rounds of conversations and drinking, Daichi is pleasantly drunk and completely oblivious to what is going on around him. He learns a lot about Suga; that he wants to become a doctor because helping people is what he loves most, that he finds cats adorable and has an exceptional spice tolerance, even that he played on his high school volleyball team as a setter (“No way!” Daichi exclaims. “I played volleyball too! I was an outside hitter!”). Oh, _and_ he volunteers, because he is an actual angel sent down to Earth to live among the paltry mortals. Suga takes a bite of his pizza and frowns down at it. Daichi stops talking and asks, “Hey, is the pizza okay?”

“No, no, the pizza is great, it’s just… I don’t like olives,” Suga admits, shyly.

Daichi immediately says, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first. Here, let me eat this, and I can get a new pizza for you.”

Suga smiles. “You like olives?”

“Oh yeah, definitely! So don’t worry, it’s not like you’re punishing me or anything,” Daichi teases. He takes the slice and takes a bite from it, closing his eyes humming with satisfaction. When he opens them back up, however, Suga is still looking at him with an indecipherable expression. He slowly swallows. “Is there something on my face?” he asks, slightly panicking.

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just…” Suga leans forward, huffing softly in amusement. “There’s this theory that Oikawa made during medical school, based on his relationship with Iwaizumi,” he begins. “It’s this thing called The Olive Theory. Oikawa hates olives, Iwaizumi loves them. In a weird way, that’s what makes them such a great couple, like a perfect balance.” He laughs, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “Yeah, it sounds totally ridiculous, but this just reminded me of it—”

“That sounds reasonable,” Daichi blurts out. He can’t help but entertain this ridiculous theory that sounds like something Oikawa would most definitely come up with, and imagine that maybe… just maybe…

The stars have finally aligned for Daichi, just this once.

Suga bites his lip. “You know, I’ve had this jar of olives just sitting in my fridge since forever,” he says, grinning. “Maybe you can take them off my hands.”

“Yeah,” Daichi says, and he can’t fight the dopey smile forming across his face, “I’d like that.”

* * *

_“Awwwww!” Shouyou gushes. “That’s so sweet!”_

_Tobio, who isn’t as sympathetic and romantic as his brother, cuts to the chase and asks, “So, is the story over? It’s obvious you guys hit it off right away and started dating. What else is there?”_

_Daichi glances to the side nervously. “Well…”_

* * *

At the end of the party, Suga grabs him by the arm and says, “Hey, let me give you my number.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Daichi says, and he feels like crying because _yes,_ finally something goes right in his life!

Suga’s eyes are so genuinely happy that Daichi is struck dumbfounded and barely hears a word he is saying. “...my phone is dead,” Suga groans. “What about your phone?”

“Huh?” God, he feels like an idiot!

“Here, I still have a pen in my pocket. I’ll just write it on a piece of paper.” Suga frowns. “Gah, do you have anything I can write on, or...?”

“Here.” Daichi frantically sticks out his arm. “It's fine if you write on here, I don't mind.”

“You sure?” Suga asks as he places his hand on Daichi’s wrist.

Daichi tried not to stare at Suga’s fingers. “Yep.”

Suga takes off the cap with his teeth, pushes Daichi’s sleeve up, and starts writing on his forearm. It tickles some, but Daichi is too caught up with the fact that Suga’s hand is _touching_ his arm and holding it in place across his chest to notice. “There you go!” Suga announces, capping the marker up with a satisfied smile. “Tomorrow night at seven, then; that’s when I’m done volunteering at the summer carnival. I’ll see you then.”

They both look at one another, grinning. They’re only a few inches away from each other, Suga’s fingers still caught around the edge of Daichi’s sleeve and warmed Daichi to the bone. There’s an unsaid spark in the air and between them that ceases Daichi’s breath as he watches the gentle wind rustle at Suga’s silver locks and caresses his smooth cheek. Daichi is suddenly hyper-aware; if he leans in, he can close the gap and they’d possibly—

Daichi coughs. “Oh, yeah, sounds great,” he blurts out, scratching the back of his neck. “See you too.” He wants to bang his head against the wall. God, he knows, he just _knows,_ that royally fucked this up.

Suga hums, looking down at the ground before shrugging. “Oh… yeah, you too,” he says, and there’s a trace of disappointment in his words.

Daichi nods his head, although his heart feels hollow and empty. But as he returns back home, looking down at the letters and numbers scrawled across his forearm, he confidently concludes that yes, tomorrow, he will not screw this up, that he _will_ get this kiss from Sugawara Koushi, and all will be right.

* * *

_Shouyou blows a raspberry disapprovingly. “Really? You didn’t kiss him?”_

_Daichi throws his arms up in the air. “Yeah, I didn’t. I don’t know, it just didn’t seem right at the moment,” he says, and Shouyou just shakes his head._

_“So basically, you chickened out,” Tobio points out._

_“What—_ no, _I didn’t_ chicken _out, it just didn’t feel right!” He can’t believe he’s being patronized by two sixteen-year-olds over his lack of romantic intuition; please, they’re_ high schoolers, _it’s not like they know what love is._

_Tobio smirks. “Okay, Dad, whatever you say.” Daichi feels a blood vessel pop in his forehead. “Anyway, what happens next? Surely you screwed something up.”_

_Sometimes, he wonders how the hell did his sons become so damn perceptive. Daichi chuckles, crossing his arms, and continues._

* * *

Daichi wakes up and immediately regrets it. It’s too bright, too sunny, and he’s far too hungover to enjoy any of it. There’s a throbbing ache in his head that resonates through the rest of his body, turning his joints to lead. He buries his head in the pillow, trying in vain to block out the piercing sun.

The annoying buzz of his phone near his head startles him back awake with a frustrated groan. He blindly makes a grab at his phone and turns it on to read his messages through bleary eyes.

> **The Devil Himself:** RISE AND SHINE SLEEPY HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!  
>  ****
> 
> **Sawamura Daichi** : Stfu.

Instead of going back to sleep like he desperately wants to, he reluctantly staggers out of bed, muscles aching in protest. How much did he drink last night? He has vague memories of dancing. Something to do with Bokuto and Akaashi… olives… a beauty mark… 

As he pads into the bathroom, yawning, he's hit with that annoying, nagging feeling that he's forgetting something. What was it? To kick Kuroo and Bokuto’s asses for letting him drink so much probably. He can hardly remember the previous night. There’s a vague moment where he thinks he might have been dancing with someone. There’s a flash of pretty gray hair and a kind smile, but that’s all he can recall.

He shrugs. Whatever.

However, the feeling persists while he showers. The water rushing down his face gives him a wake-up call, clearing up his head as he wracks through his memories. He definitely remembers talking to Iwaizumi during the party, and he remembers The Marriage Talk that came from that conversation just as well, and he also remembers meeting _someone_. Someone _very_ important.

Daichi is rinsing his hair when he notices that some of the soap on his arm is turning black. He squints at it.

"What the hell...?" he mutters, until he sees a blurry shape of a number.

And then it hits him.

 **"SHIT!"** he screams. **“SUGA!”** He immediately bolts out without rinsing his soap suds and dropping his towel in the process. How could he have forgotten? It was all _Suga. Suga_ was the man he met last night. _Suga_ was the one with silver hair and crinkled, smiling eyes, the one who he talked to the whole time with no sign of stopping, and the one who had invited him to come by his place to eat olives.

_TONIGHT!_

"Oh no, oh no, oh no, I'm screwed, I'm so screwed, FUCK!" he curses in frustration, gripping his inked, soapy hand in agony.

 _“DAICHI!”_ Bokuto’s muffled voice shouts from outside the bathroom. _“Shut UP, MAN, Jesus CHRIST!”_

Daichi's foot slips on the towel and he falls head-first on the tiling.

And so begins another epic saga of his disastrous love life.

* * *

_Shouyou and Tobio stare at him._

_“Dad,” Shouyou finally says, sighing. “You’re so—”_

* * *

“—hopeless, tragically, utterly _hopeless,”_ Kuroo repeats for the sixth time. A pair of sunglasses are perched on his face with the hoodie thrown over his bed head, still clearly wrapped in the vestiges of a killer hangover. “First, you didn’t kiss him because you’re a major wimp—”

“ _What_ , I am _not_ a major wimp!” Daichi scowls. “There was no signal!”

“I wasn’t even there and I can tell that there _was_ one!”

“No there wasn’t!”

* * *

_“I asked your father years later about it, and yes, there was the signal. I could’ve kissed him.”_

* * *

  
Kuroo continues, “And second, you washed off his phone number and didn't even _realize_. This is a new low for you, Daichi. I really thought it couldn’t get worse with you, but sure enough, it just did, and I feel so bad for you.”

He looks desperately around the table for any back-up support from the others, but sure enough, Akaashi and Bokuto look equally as disappointed with him. Even _Kenma,_ who usually remains indifferent in these kinds of discussions, is also looking at him with deep chagrin. 

Fantastic, now he _really_ knows he screwed everything up.

He takes a deep breath, trying to get his scrambled thoughts together. “No, it’s going to be fine. I just need his phone number, and—” He lights up, turning to Akaashi and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Wait, Akaashi-kun, do you have his number?”

Akaashi glances over at Bokuto. “Maybe you should ask Koutarou that question,” he says, a little coldly.

“Huh? What does that mean?”

Bokuto brings his hands up in defense. “Okay, I didn’t mean to, I swear, Keiji! It was an accident! Pleeeaaassseee don’t be mad at me!”

Daichi clenches his jaw. _“Wait a minute…”_ Furious, he hauls Bokuto forward by his shirt and roars, _“Did you cheat on Akaashi with Suga?!”_

Everyone pauses, staring at Daichi, before Kuroo breaks out into a full cackle and starts banging his fist against the table, while Bokuto gapes at him and shouts, “ _HAH?! CHEAT ON KEIJI WITH SUGA-CHAN?!?! I WOULD NEVER, DAICHI!!!”_

Daichi cocks his head to the side, confused. “Then what the hell happened?”

Kenma sighs. “During Bokuto’s little karaoke stunt while singing 'You Make Me Feel so Young', he accidentally dropped Akaashi's phone into the punch bowl,” he explains. “That’s why he doesn’t have Sugawara-san’s contact information anymore.”

Oh. Alright, that makes sense. He lets go of Bokuto’s shirt and sits back down. “Do you know anyone else who might have it?” 

“Oikawa should,” Akaashi answers, and Daichi immediately starts dialing Oikawa’s number on his phone, waiting with antsy agitation as each ring goes by. That’s when, from across the room, he hears a faint buzzing over from where the couch is. Daichi walks over to the sound and pulls out Oikawa’s cellphone, nestled between the cushions.

“He left his fucking phone here,” Daichi says flatly.

Kuroo lets out a slow whistle. “Damn, this really must not be your day.”

“Look, man,” Bokuto says, lightly patting his shoulder. “Today wasn’t your lucky day, but one day you’ll get to see him again and explain everything, and then maybe you’ll get that kiss from him—”

_“No!”_

Everyone is taken aback at Daichi’s outburst, blinking owlishly back at him. Daichi takes a deep breath. Lets it out.

“No,” he says, “I can’t. I _will_ find him today, I _will_ eat his jar of olives that he hates so much, and I _will_ kiss him like I should have done last night.” He turns back to his friends, a confident gleam in his eyes. “I’m telling you guys: I think I finally found the one, and I will not let him get away, not this time.” 

Kuroo chuckles, clasping his friend’s shoulder. “You’ve become a fine, admirable man, Sawamura Daichi. But heed my advice, o’ valiant warrior. I need to give you something to aid you in your quest.”

“Ugh, you're so lame.”

“Speak for yourself.” Kuroo hands him his sunglasses. “Just a little warning: you're gonna need this. It’s a sunny, _sunny_ day.”

Daichi grimaces at the thought of that—he’s still very much hungover—but swallows his complaints and takes the sunglasses. He puts on a baseball cap and pockets Oikawa’s phone. “Thanks. Do any of you know where Iwaizumi could be? I can give Oikawa his phone back so he can unlock it.”

That’s when Akaashi suddenly winces. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do…” he says. He looks up at Daichi pitifully. “You won’t like it though.”

* * *

There wasn’t anything Daichi hated more than the annual summer bash carnival, and he will _never, ever,_ forgive Bokuto for deciding to propose to his boyfriend during this wretched time of the year. 

* * *

_“What, but I love the carnival!”_

_“Shut up, Shouyou! Let Dad finish the story!”_

* * *

The sidewalks and buildings are decorated obnoxiously with colorful ribbons and littered with carnival tents that obscure the road, and here and there people are already out and about, either buying street food or playing the various carnival games that are probably rigged to rip-off people. Okay, fine, maybe Daichi is being too cynical about this whole affair, but come on, he’s twenty-seven and way too old for this shit.

But he’s on a mission, so there’s no backing down.

The line to get tickets is ridiculously long. Way too many screeching children for his sensitive ears. He readjusts the sunglasses, hoping no one would recognize him looking like a total tool. 

Finally, when he’s able to grab hold of an overpriced ticket and break free from the line, he walks around the carnival grounds, scoping out for any sign of Iwaizumi while pulling his baseball cap low to remain inconspicuous (and block the sun out, because holy shit is it _insanely_ bright, what the hell?). It’s when he crosses by the sand volleyball court does he spy the familiar spiky hair standing by the court, although it’s quite apparent the man is anything but in high spirits. “Iwaizumi,” he greets as soon as he gets there. “How are you feeling?”

“Sawamura,” Iwaizumi replies, surprised. “Probably better than you, by the looks of it. What are you doing here? You don’t seem to be the type to be interested in this.”

Daichi snorts. “Says you. What are _you_ doing here?”

Iwaizumi purses his lips. “Tooru wanted to take his nephew to the carnival, and I got dragged along.” He nods his head towards the court, where Oikawa and his twelve-year-old nephew were destroying a bunch of little kids in an extremely one-sided match of volleyball, which was to be expected from a guy like Oikawa Tooru, who had been recruited to play for the men’s volleyball team back in university (consequently resulting in Daichi meeting him through an unfortunate Econ project they had to partner up for. It was not a fun three weeks, but at least he was able to meet Iwaizumi, who was like a breath of fresh air in the dark abyss filled by Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa). 

Oikawa does his signature deadly jump serve that roars past the kids with lethal speed, causing them to cry in frustration. A few parents come in to scoop up their children, glaring at Oikawa in the process. However, the man seems completely undeterred by this backlash, _smug_ even. 

“As you can see, he has shit sportsmanship,” Iwaizumi sighs. He turns to Daichi once more. “Anyway, what did you want?”

“Do you happen to have Sugawara Koushi’s number, by any chance?”

“Sugawara-san? Why?”

“It’s just, er, I met with him last night, and I’m supposed to meet up with him today at seven, but I don’t have his number.” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t make a comment. “So, uh, do you know his number?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t,” he says. “Tooru probably does, although he doesn’t have his phone right now.”

“Oh wait!” Daichi rummages through his pocket and takes out the phone. “Oikawa left it at our apartment. Do you think he can maybe share Suga’s number?”

“What about Refreshing-kun?”

Oikawa appears by his husband’s side, drenched with sweat after multiple rounds of crushing kids’ hopes and dreams of ever becoming a volleyball player. He sees Daichi and smiles widely. “Dai-chan!” he chirps. “What are you doing here?”

Daichi shoves the phone back to Oikawa. “Can you unlock your phone and give me Suga’s phone number?” he quickly asks. “It’s sort of an emergency.”

A grin appears on Oikawa’s face. “An emergency, you say?” he says, slyly. “You’ve got a date with Refreshing-kun? Why didn’t you tell me you were interested in him sooner? I could’ve _totally_ set you two up.”

Daichi lets out a frustrated groan. “Oikawa, I don’t have time for this. Can you just give me his phone number?”

“Alright, alright,” Oikawa sighs in resignation. He unlocks his phone and pulls up his contacts, while Daichi pulls out his own phone, readying his fingers to punch down the numbers right away. He hears angels singing in Daichi’s head because finally, he’s getting everything together.

“Okay, Refreshing-kun’s number..."

Daichi leans in.

"is..."

And then Oikawa pauses.

“What?” Daichi says. “What is it?”

Oikawa looks up at Daichi, grimacing. “Sorry, Dai-chan. My phone just died.”

The angelic hymns in Daichi’s head abruptly stop. “ _What?”_

“I told you to not leave your phone on the couch, moron!” Iwaizumi chastises, smacking the backside of his husband’s head.

“But I was drunk, Hajime! Don’t blame me,” Oikawa whines.

Iwaizumi sighs, turning to Daichi apologetically. “Sorry we couldn’t help you, Sawamura. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there.”

Daichi smiles, although his heart isn’t in it.

Oikawa suddenly pipes up, “Oh, but Man Bun-chan is here!”

“Man Bun-chan?”

“Azumane Asahi,” Oikawa elaborates. He rolls his eyes, as though Daichi’s incompetent for not understanding the _many_ weird-ass nicknames Oikawa gives people that he, for the life of him, will never come to fully comprehend. “He’s in the same residency program as Refreshing-kun, so I’m sure he has his phone number. I’m pretty sure I saw him a while ago, but I’m not too sure…”

“Azumane Asahi,” Daichi repeats. “Where was the last time you saw him?”

Oikawa shrugs. “By the talent show. But you better get there soon if you want to make it in time. The show's about to start.”

Daichi smiles appreciatively. “Thank you so much.”

Before he goes, however, Iwaizumi calls out, “Oi, Sawamura.”

He turns his head around. “Yeah?”

Iwaizumi gives him a reassuring smile. “Good luck.”

* * *

_“You’ve got the worst luck, haha!” Shouyou giggles. “Did all of this really happen to you? I feel bad for you, Dad!”_

_“Believe it or not, it really did happen,” Daichi says, solemnly. “But I will never regret it, because no matter how much bad karma I got, it all led me to the love of my life, and that’s all I can ever wish for.”_

* * *

Returning back out into the hellish unknown, Daichi adjusts his sunglasses and baseball cap as he heads over to the talent show, looking for a man who is “really really tall and beefy with a man bun and looks like the Asian version of Jesus,” according to Oikawa’s very… specific description. 

He makes it to the stage, where there’s already a line forming underneath a sparkly banner that reads _TALENT SHOW!_

As much as he wants to turn the other way, he perseveres. With a deep breath, and a quick prayer, he marches forward.

He must have asked fifty people for their name. All of them shake their heads and don’t seem to know anyone by the name of Azumane Asahi. It's all a fruitless attempt, and his patience is wearing thin. He’s certain that the love gods are just trying to screw him all over again.

 _Great, I’m never going to see Suga again,_ he thinks miserably.

“Sawamura Daichi-san. Greetings.”

Daichi inwardly bats back his withering sigh before turning around, straight-faced. “Ushijima-san,” he greets back politely.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Daichi’s stone-faced coworker and Marketing Manager, is standing in line for, shockingly, the talent show. He’s got nothing against Ushijima—he’s a hardworking, diligent man who Daichi only has the utmost respect for—but sometimes he can be a little… expressionless, up to the point it’s like talking to a wall. “I am pleasantly surprised to see you here,” Ushijima says. “What are you presenting?”

“Presenting?” Daichi repeats, confused.

“Indeed. For the talent show. I am planning on presenting the miracles of agriculture and how fundamental it is for our country’s economy, and how it takes pure talent, grit, and determination to harvest and give back to the world as one of our modern-day free enterprise’s crucial markets.”

Daichi blinks back at him. “...Alright,” he finally says. “Well, I’m not here for the talent show. I’m just trying to find someone.”

“Do tell. For whom are you looking for?”

“A man named Azumane Asahi. Do you happen to know him?”

Ushijima shakes his head. “I sincerely apologize. I do not know of this ‘Azumane Asahi.’ Perhaps I can assist you in your search.”

Daichi raises his hands. “No, no, it’s fine. You just go back to your… farm stuff. I can find him on my own.”

Ushijima nods and bows deeply. “I bid you farewell, Sawamura-san. I hope you find who you are looking for.”

Daichi awkwardly waves at him. “Thank you. I’ll see you on Monday.” 

He turns around and continues to walk on, going down the long-line of contestants slowly forming, when a row of watermelons comes tumbling down the hill in his direction. He attempts to swerve it but instead, just because the world is out to get him today _apparently_ , accidentally lands his foot into one.

Daichi grimaces. "Gross," he mutters to himself, scowling at his sticky jeans and soggy socks. He can practically hear Kuroo cackling at him from far away. 

_Fan-fucking-tastic,_ he thinks to himself bitterly.

“Oh my God, my watermelons!” a deep voice booms from somewhere above. A dark figure looms over him, blocking out the light. Daichi can make out a beard and a… man bun?

_Man bun? Could it be…?_

Large hands reach down and pull him roughly up. Daichi flinches at the rough handling, still pretty sore from the landing. “I’m so sorry! I was keeping watch of them and I just looked away for one second and they were gone the next and _gah,_ I'm _sooo_ sorry!” the large man says in a distressed tone. “Are you hurt! Are you—oh no, your foot is stuck in the watermelons! I'm sorry!”

“Uh no, I’m fine,” Daichi assures awkwardly. “It was my fault, really...”

“No, I’m always so careless, I should've paid attention to my surroundings, and then maybe the watermelons wouldn't have _rolled—_ ” the man is blabbering as Daichi’s eyes adjust to the light. He’s tall, big, his hair is tied up into a high bun. And he looks like Asian Jesus, Daichi muses to himself. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

"Yes, don't worry about it," Daichi sighs. “I’m trying to find someone and I’m sorta in a rush, so…”

Someone shouts from the line, “Asahi! Get over here, we're about to start!”

“Coming!” the man calls back. “Well, I hope you find whoever it is you’re looking for. I’m sorry again.”

“It's all good, don't worry,” Daichi says, ready to head back to searching. And then he does a double-take. “ _Wait!”_ He spins around and grabs the man’s upper arms. “You’re Asahi?”

“I—yes?”

“Asahi, as in _Azumane_ Asahi?” he demands, pressing even further. The man shrinks back, nervously side-glancing left to right.

“I… yeah?”

Daichi fumbles for his words, his mind partially split with wanting to whoop loudly at the air in pure glee or handling the situation like a grown, mature adult. Unfortunately, his mind can’t make up its decision, and Daichi just starts giggling madly to himself like a lunatic.

Which, unfortunately, doesn’t do so well with Azumane.

The man turns ghost-white. “Uh, s-sir, I don’t know what you want from m-me, I d-don’t have money, but I can g-give you—”

Daichi stops laughing to furiously shake his head. “No, you don’t have to give me anything, I just need the phone number of—”

A woman strides over to him and latches him by the arm. “Come on up for the talent show!” she says with a wide smile, and hands him a microphone. “You’re next, hon!”

Daichi panics and tries to pull his arm away. “Wait what, no, I didn’t sign up for—” However, before he can even finish his sentence, he’s dragged up to the stage and tossed to the center of it, where hundreds of eyes have zoned on him. 

He starts sweating, rigid as a pole as he tightens his death-grip around the microphone. What the fuck does he even do? He literally has _no_ talent to show right now, unless they want to see a man comedically make a fool of himself in the face of love and romance. He starts looking around, trying desperately to think of a plan to get out of this mess when suddenly his eyes land on gray, ashy hair by the medical tent. When the man turns around, Daichi can perfectly see that it is, without a doubt—

“ _Suga?”_

Daichi’s proclamation booms throughout the festival, and from where he stands, Suga looks up and meets Daichi’s gaze, equally as shocked as him. Immediately, Daichi drops the microphone, not even caring for the loud screech it makes when it hits the floor, and leaps off the stage, breaking into a full-blown sprint towards Suga. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, relief and excitement flooding in his chest as the distance between them starts closing.

“Suga…” he says, between heavy pants, “It’s so… nice… to… see… you…”

Suga smiles at him. “You too, Daichi— _wait, Daichi, slow down!”_

Daichi freezes. “Wait, what—“

And then a chili cookoff contestant runs into him, resulting in the chili spilling all over him and the pot hitting him clean in the face.

* * *

_It takes ten minutes to get Shouyou and Tobio to calm down from their fits of hysterical laughter before Daichi can continue the story._

* * *

  
“How’s your eye?” Suga asks gently, and Daichi chuckles weakly while pressing the ice pack to his eye. They’re currently in the carnival’s medical tent, and he’s pretty sure he looks just as shitty as he feels: chili-bombed, watermeloned, black-eyed, and still terribly hungover.

But at least he got to see Suga again.

“I’ve seen better days,” Daichi admits. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, I don’t get hangovers, if that’s what you mean.” Suga grins victoriously. He grabs for some pills and a glass of water. “But if those broken sunglasses mean anything, though, I’d say you could use a few aspirins to cure you.”

Warmth spreads across Daichi's chest. “You’re an actual angel sent from Heaven," he says appreciatively.

Suga rolls his eyes, pleased nonetheless, and hands him the medication. “So, what resulted in you coming to the carnival, hungover, and getting a black eye and chili all over you?”

“I…” Daichi begins, but one look from Suga and everything starts bursting out of him all at once like a dam. “I washed off your number on accident this morning, and then I asked Akaashi if he had your number but his phone got thrown into a punch bowl, and then I went to this stupid carnival to find Oikawa but _his_ phone died, and I may have scared the living daylights out of your coworker but I don’t care as long as I still have a chance to find you, because I just really, _really,_ wanted to see you again after last night and I’d absolutely hate myself if I screwed this up a second time.”

While Daichi tries to catch his breath after basically word-vomiting in one go, Suga simply blinks owlishly back at him, his mouth agape. And then he throws his head back and laughs heartily, clutching his stomach and wheezing. “I-I’m sorry!” Suga chokes out after regaining his composure, wiping a single tear from his eye. “I’m just… _wow,_ the lengths you'd go just to see me again. I'm so happy,” he says, giggling. “It’s just… don’t you remember? At the end of the night, I also put my number in your phone too. Might as well, right?”

Hesitantly, Daichi pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until—lo and behold—he finds a new one labeled "Suga". “Oh... _my God_.” Daichi is _this_ close to crying like a little kid. “This whole time?”

“Afraid so." Suga nods solemnly. "And I even told you that I was volunteering at the carnival today as a medic so you wouldn't have to go through all that trouble searching for me.” 

_“There you go! Tomorrow night at seven, then; that’s when I’m done volunteering at the summer carnival. I’ll see you then.”_

“Oh, fuck,” Daichi croaks, threading his fingers through his hair, “you did tell me that…”

Suga chuckles sweetly. “How drunk _were_ you?”

Daichi snorts. “ _Really_ drunk, that’s for sure. But I got to see you again, and that’s what only matters,” He sits up, ignoring the sharp pain he feels in his sides, and looks at Suga, grinning. “My friends told me that I wussed out by not kissing you last night.”

Suga teases, “You did. I was waiting for you to make the move, you know. I was really sad when you didn’t.”

Daichi groans loudly, and Suga laughs even harder. “I’m an idiot.”

Suga grins. “You really are,” he says, and drags Daichi by the collar and into a long, sweet kiss. Daichi jumps in surprise before melting into it, wrapping his arms around Suga to deepen it. When they finally pull away, Suga gently bumps his forehead against Daichi’s and continues, “But I really, _really_ like you, Daichi, and I would seriously like for you to stop by tonight and eat my olives.”

Daichi lets out a hearty laugh and pulls Suga back in for another kiss, and for once, everything seems perfect.

**Year 2030**

“And that, kids,” Daichi concludes, “is how I met your father.”

Shouyou crosses his arms. “That’s it?” he grumbles. “That’s all there is to it?”

Daichi furrows his brows. “Wha—yeah, that’s all! What else do you want me to say?”

“What about the others?” Tobio inquires. “How did they react when you finally got together with Papa?”

Daichi shrugs. “We went to Kuroo’s bar, had a few drinks, and your dad soon became an irreplaceable part of our group. Five years later, we got married, and four years later, we adopted you and Shouyou.” He smiles at his sons fondly. “It’s the best life any man can wish for.”

“Daichi, boys, I’m home!” The door of Daichi’s office opens, and there stands his husband, still in his scrubs and fresh from work.

Shouyou perks up. “Papa!” he exclaims and hops off the couch, bounding up to his papa and hugging him. 

“What are you boys doing in here?” Koushi asks, amused. 

Tobio answers with a shrug, “Dad was just telling us about how you guys met.”

Koushi quirks an eyebrow at Daichi. “That story?” he says, humming nostalgically. “Oh wow, twenty-five years have passed since that happened. Are you talking about—”

“Bokuto and Akaashi’s wedding, The Olive Theory, and the carnival fiasco?” Daichi completes. “You bet I am.” He strokes Koushi’s jaw and kisses his forehead, softly saying, “Welcome home, honey.”

Koushi beams, and it's just as bright as it had been twenty-five years ago, when Daichi had first laid eyes on him and immediately fell in love. “I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!! This is my first Haikyuu!! fic I’ve ever posted on ao3, but my love for the manga and anime goes way back since its creation. I’ve always had a soft spot for Daisuga, mainly due to the mom-dad dynamic I’m WEAK for. Maybe in the future, I’ll post more Haikyuu-related things ;D
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this! <3


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